Daddy's Little Girl
by LaFleurdelaMort
Summary: Slayer-turned-vampire Victoria is her "daddy" Spike's precious little girl, taking care of his even after he leaves her in a cold, cruel world. But is daighterly affection for her sire all that drive Toria's actions?  Songfic;oneshot;SpikexOC


A.N. - Hey guys! Decided to introduce my new OC Victoria (a good last name would be appreciated, just leave it in a comment) with a little songfic. If you like her, please feel free to comment and critique, and I'll post my Buffy fanfic up here posthaste. Oh! And I'm not going to tell you the name of the song outright; you're going to have to guess! If you're that impatient, it's the last line of the fic.

Enjoy!

~Fleur

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

Four years old, and yet I could remember it like it was yesterday. My parents raised voice, screaming at each other. About me. Tears streaming down my face, jumping at every bang and praying silently at every lapse in the

argument. Huddling further into the closet, hiding among the coats and shoes, and praying Mommy would still be alive when I crawled out…

Spike held out his hand, and I pressed the whisky bottle into it without as much as an upward glance. It was over a hundred some odd years later, and nothing had changed.

"Thanks, Toria darling." He ruffled my hair affectionately, before twisting the cap off of the bottle. Suddenly, I had the urge to knock it out of his hands. He raised it to his lips, and I caught his wrist.

His ice-blue eyes bored into mine, and I released his wrist, dropping my gaze again.

"That's my girl." He took a deep swig and staggered off, and a tear dripped down my chin.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

I walked into his bedroom and found Spike crying, actually crying, tears streaming down his face like a child. I rushed to his side without further thought, and touched his arm sympathetically. He jerked it out of my grip, looking up at me in disgust.

"I…I'm sorry." I stammered.

"Get out." He growled.

"B-but Spike!" I protested, going to take the slopping whiskey bottle from his hand.

"GET OUT!" Spike roared, pushing me down.

"FINE!" I roared right back, and I did as I was bid, throwing my things into bags as I did so.

"And where do you think you're going?" Spike slurred at me, tripping to the door of his bedroom as I pulled on my jacket.

"Anywhere but here!" I yelled back, yanking open the door and storming out into the night.

"Eh, you'll be back! You can't stay away!" he screamed after me as I stomped down the crowded New York streets alone.

An hour later I was standing at the front door again, ringing the bell in defeat.

Spike opened it, and stared at me for a full ten seconds before motioning me in.

"Always my little girl." He put his arm around my shoulders, not noticing I was crying again.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

Now, five years later, after a monumental argument over his little coquet Drusilla, after finally getting up the courage to leave him and having to start a whole new life for myself from scratch, I was back again. Spike looked surprised to see me standing there after all these years. But after seeing him fighting with Buffy, I had to go back. He was right; I was his little girl, no matter how much I hated it.

I let myself in and sat down on the old couch.

"Hello Spike." I said smoothly. He sat down across from me and gazed at me intently. He looked like hell, haggard and rumpled and clearly drunk, dark circles apparent under his eyes. "Where's Dru?"

"That's not important. My Toria is back again, to take care of her dear old Daddy!" he put his hand on my thigh, but I shook him off.

"Would you be saying that if she was here?" I replied, ice edging its way into my calm tone.

"What are you talking about? Daddy loves you, Toria, you know that!" he smiled at me in what I'm sure he thought to be a reassuring way.

"No, Spike, I don't think you do." I stood up and began to pace.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he stood too, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Only that you can only manipulate me so many times before I catch on." Mouth set, I marched up to him, getting progressively louder as I grew angrier, "You can't bullshit a bullshitter, Spike. It's all well and good to push me aside when Drusie's around, but I refuse to be your nursemaid and sit here and nanny your drunken ass because she left you. I have a life now, Spike, I've settled down! I can't-I _WON'T!_"

"You're out of line!" he thundered.

"No, Spike, you are! You ruined my life!" My eyes stung with the precursor of tears, but I refused to let them fall, "Don't you remember? I was your baby girl! You made me what I am, and then you left me to fend for myself! You should have let me die there that night! You stole my death from me and turned me into one of the very monsters I devoted my life to killing! And I killed! I had no choice! I hate you! _I HATE YOU!_" In a blind fury, I cocked my arm and punched him strait in the face. He fell, a trickle of blood running down the corner of his mouth, staring up at me as I calmed a bit and hugged myself. "I was so young, Spike. I still am, and I always will be. All because of you. Always so afraid…"

"Of what?" he stood and took me tight by the shoulders, and though I struggled he held fast, "Victoria, what are you so afraid of?"

"Of being alone!" I shrieked helplessly, tears pouring down my face, "Of losing you."

My hand came up to caress his cheek, and before I knew what was happening he had pulled me into an embrace and was kissing me passionately, desperately. Oh, how many times had I wished for this, him pressed close to me, tongue and teeth fervent and solid and real. Hell, he even tasted just like I thought he would! My tears wet our faces, and I clung to him like a lifeline, praying to a God I never believed in to let this be true, to let him really be there kissing me.

But there was something wrong. The taste of him was muted under the taste of cigarettes and whiskey, and it seemed no matter how hard I prayed and clung, he wasn't really there, at least not really. I pulled back, and he passed out on the ground, dead drunk.

Losing the feeling in my legs, I slid down the wall with a groan, allowing myself to lapse into hysterical sobs.

And with the realization he most likely wouldn't remember any of this in the morning; I allowed the grief and sorrow to take over, my gasping not really necessary as I required no oxygen, but as much as a comfort to me as anything about now.

"Oh Daddy…please, put the bottle down." I rasped in a choked whisper, "for the love of a daughter."

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

A.N. - Hope you liked it! Comments and critiques welcome and appreciated! 3


End file.
